


say you'll be mine

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blowjobs, Canon verse, F/M, First Kiss, Frottage, M/M, Oblivious Castiel, Possessive Dean, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7467084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is tired of everyone flirting with Cas, and takes it upon himself to claim Cas as his own.  </p><p>Based on the prompt: Cas gets hit on all the time by men and women alike. He's completely oblivious to it, though. Dean, however, notices it all and he gets really jealous and possessive...</p>
            </blockquote>





	say you'll be mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [destielonfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielonfire/gifts).



> this is 100% [destielonfire](http://destielonfire.tumblr.com)'s fault for suggesting this in the first place - i was like o.O fun prompt, could probably get that in under 2000 words. ahahahaha do i even know me? at least i kept it under 5k ;)
> 
> if you have your own prompt for me, hit me up on [tumblr](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com)

Five diners and three bars in four days.  And at every. single. one. there’s someone eyeing Cas like _he’s_ on the menu.  Licking their lips and winking and god it’s driving Dean fucking crazy.  If he had to see one more of these assholes flirting with Cas, he was going to punch someone.

Cas smiled at him over his beer bottle as he took another sip (and yes, Cas goddamned _sips_ his beer instead of actually drinking it - Dean’s been working on that).  God he was fucking adorable, and Dean’s answering smile probably portrayed the sentiment.  Fuck he was gone on this goofball.  

Dean could usually do a pretty good job of deflecting unwanted attention away from Cas.  Most of the time, Cas didn’t even realize what was happening.  He’d accidentally flirt back just by being polite, not getting the hint that these chicks were trying to get into his pants.  So it was left to Dean to glare menacingly until they got the hint.  Or not so casually put his hand on Cas’ shoulder while saying a poorly veiled, “He’s not interested.”  Or if they were real aggressive in their flirting, just grouse out that, “You’re barking up the wrong tree,” while getting all in Cas’ personal space.

Thankfully, while Castiel had failed to notice people trying to pick him up, he’d also failed to notice Dean’s attempts to subtly lay a claim.  Because honestly, he was just not ready to open that can of worms.

But the last few days had been about a hundred times worse than usual.  They couldn’t go anywhere without someone making bedroom eyes at Cas.  And yeah, Dean was attracting his fair share of attention, but even the pretty blonde the night before couldn’t hold his attention when her redheaded cousin was _practically sitting in Cas’ lap for fuck’s sake._

The increase in interest was probably due to Cas’ recent switch from his holy tax accountant outfit to more casual human clothes.  Sure he kept the suit and trench coat for working cases, but the rest of the time he followed Dean’s lead and wore t-shirts and jeans.  Of course - and Dean could find no way to lament this, no matter how embarrassing - his preference was for _tighter_ jeans than Dean would ever wear.  And he usually kept himself to _one_ layer.  No plaid overshirts to obscure his admittedly quite nice figure.  Just a leather jacket that also did _nothing_ to hide when his biceps flexed.

He was basically a fucking modern Greek god come to life.  So Dean could understand the attention people were giving him.  Didn’t mean he didn’t hate it with every fiber of his being.

Losing his appetite, he pushed his remaining fries on to Cas’ plate and grabbed his phone to text Sam.

_11.14: Case is a bust, just a damn hoax. Heading back in the morning._

The bartender was making his way back over, so Dean pocketed his phone and put on his best please-give-us-free-drinks smile.  The bartender gave him a cursory look, then fixed his full attention to Cas.

“Anything else I can get you, hon?”

God fucking dammit.  It was bad enough that he’d had to deal with this shit corner of the bar - the only place out of view from the handsy girls who’d giggled at them when they first came in - but now even the fucking _bartender_ was hitting on Cas.  Was no where safe?

“No, thank you,” Cas said, but the way he smiled in response was just a _tad_ too friendly.  Too encouraging.  The bartender picked up on it immediately, tilting his hips and leaning across the bar top to lightly breech their personal space.

“You sure?  Anything _off the menu_ you might be interested in?”

Castiel frowned in confusion.  “If it’s off the menu, how will your patrons know it’s available?  I would recommend you print new menus that include these additional items.”

The bartender faltered for a moment, cocky grin disappearing for a few seconds until it’s replaced by a throaty laugh.  “You’re funny.  I like funny.”

“ALRIGHT.”  Dean stood up abruptly, threw some cash down on the bar and started pulling Cas’ arm.  “Thanks but no thanks, we’re good.”

The bartender looked like he wanted to interrupt, but Cas went willingly without any hesitation and that seemed to deflate the guy.  Which normally Dean might have felt bad about, except fuck that guy, he’s not getting Cas if _he_ can’t have Cas.

_Fucking bartender thinks he’s good enough for an angel, what an asshat.  Way out of your league, dude._

_Out of mine for that matter, but oh well._

Spotting an open pool table in the back, Dean made a beeline for it.  “Let’s play some pool.”  

Cas agreed without a second thought.  He was actually halfway decent at pool itself.  It had taken him a while to learn the rules and strategies, but the mechanics of it were “extremely straightforward” bordering on “rudimentary.”  His issue wasn’t a lack of technical ability - lining up the balls and sifting through his options was easy.  No, Cas always lost because he didn’t take into account the flaws in the table itself.  The areas where there was a slight dip or the felt was frayed or a bumper was too soft.  And he wasn’t great at knowing what made a decent stick, which would be fine, except he wasn’t great at playing with shitty ones.

(Dean was of course more than well-versed at learning the faults of a table.  There’d been many nights where his dinner prospects hinged entirely on winning a few games.  He was a pro at becoming intimately aware of a table’s defects within the first two turns.)

His hustle game needed some work too.  He had the disarming part down, he just needed a better handle on when to bluff, when to be cocky, when to purposely miss a shot, and all the other subtle ins and outs of tricking a mark into upping the ante.  It was a work in progress, and using that as an excuse to get Cas all to himself was fine with him.

He grabbed some sticks (making sure to take the bent one for himself) and had Cas rack the balls.   A waitress swung by and Dean ordered a couple more beers, way too sober for having to deal with all the heart eyes the angel’d been getting.

They played a few games.  Nothing aggressive since Dean didn’t want Cas to get frustrated.  Hell, he threw a couple here and there.  Totally worth it when Cas’ eyes would light up and he’d grin at Dean like it was the biggest fucking victory in the world.  Plus stretching out the games gave him ample opportunity to enjoy seeing Cas bent over the table, ass looking mighty fine in those snug jeans.

(Though it didn’t bode well for Cas’ career as a pool hustler if he couldn’t tell Dean was hustling him right now.)

“Mind if we join?”  

Dean’s head snapped up to see a couple college aged chicks making their way over.  And fuck he must’ve been getting old, because instead of licking his lips at all the cleavage they were showing off, all he could think was they needed to pull their shirts up a few inches.  They were cute.  Hot, even.  If it were him and Sam, he’d probably be all over it to at least get his brother lucky.  And maybe the whole Cas thing was getting more serious than he thought, but all he felt was a _complete_ lack of interest.

He was about to say as much (obviously a little more politely than, “Nope, not interested in fucking some barely legal coeds tonight, thank you,” but only marginally so) when Cas appeared beside him.  

“Of course.”  Hell, he even handed one of the girls his cue stick.  The really nice one that barely curved at all.  The one Dean had _specifically found_ for Cas.

Fuck his life, honestly.

Before Dean could protest, one of the girls stepped forward and hooked her arm into Cas’.  “We’ll be a team.  Macy, you can play with-”

“Dean,” he ground out, staring daggers at the girl with his arm around his best friend.

“Macy, you play with Dean.”

Macy, if she noticed Dean’s less than enthusiastic body language as he sauntered away, had the good graces to not look offended.  

The whole fucking game, Dean was off.  Every time he went to line up a shot, he’d make the mistake of looking up and seeing Macy’s friend all over Cas.  Mussing his hair.  Leaning on his shoulder.  Calling him a cutie pie while laughing at his non-joke.  Whispering in his ear between turns.  And when it _was_ her turn, she’d make a show of chalking up the cue and blowing the excess dust off, eyelashes batting seductively at Cas.

And dammit, this chick - Pepper, as it turned out - was halfway decent at pool.  Good looking, totally into Cas, a real solid prospect for a one night stand.  And Dean, good friend that he was, had halfway talked himself into helping to facilitate that.  Because Cas deserved nice things, right?  He deserved hot sex with hot chicks if that’s what he wanted.  It wasn’t like Dean was offering any alternatives.  

He was in fact in the process of figuring out how to bite the bullet on this one and get those two back to the motel alone, when it happened.  Cas made a particularly nice bank shot to sink the eight ball.  Pepper, in her excitement, slapped Cas on the ass.  Cas jumped at the contact, turning to look first at her and then at Dean in bewilderment, clearly wondering if this was a normal _human thing_.  During his momentary distraction, Pepper took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.  Going up on her tiptoes, she brought Cas down to kiss him full on the lips.

And not a short kiss, either.  No, this was full on making out.  Tongue and everything.

“Oh _fuck no,”_ Dean spat and damn near threw his cue on the floor.  Two strides and he was there, forcing the girl off Cas with a little more force than necessary.  She staggered back, eyes a little glazed over but shock starting to overtake the lust.  Not at all deterred, Dean stepped between her and Cas.  “Ain’t anybody ever told you to leave room for Jesus?”

Before she could answer, Dean grabbed Cas by the hand and dragged him to the exit.  Castiel, stunned, had a deer in the headlights look.  His poor angelic mind clearly had no clue how to understand what had happened.  He let Dean lead him out of the bar and across the street to their motel.  He offered no resistance as Dean marched them straight to their room and slammed the door behind them.

Which was when he realized he was still holding Cas’ hand.  He let it go like it burned.

“What the fuck was that, Cas?”

Cas looked way out of his depths, and it briefly reminded Dean of that whorehouse way back when.  He gaped at Dean, lips kiss swollen and hair a complete fucking mess.

“You like kissing random chicks at bars?”  And okay, yeah, totally hypocritical of him to be giving Cas shit for that, but he was beyond furious right now.  (Admitting he was furious was easier than admitting he was jealous, so he rolled with that.)  Cas still seemed beyond speech at the moment.  “What, she that good of a kisser you can’t think straight anymore?”

“I…”  Castiel cocked his head to the side, actually considering his answer as if that were a serious question.  “I wouldn’t know if she were a good kisser.  I have so little experience I doubt I would notice-”

At some point during that admittedly adorable confession, Dean surged forward and boxed Cas against the motel door.  Not missing a beat, he kissed Cas hard, demanding, like he wanted to leave his lips bruised.  Liking that image, Dean sucked Cas’ bottom lip between his teeth to gently nibble. Satisfied by the startled gasp that earned him, he forced his tongue inside Cas’ mouth.

To his mild disgust, he realized he could taste the girl from earlier. Dean growled as he tried to chase that flavor away, permanently replace it with his own. One hand moved up to snake through Cas’ hair. Once he had a good handful, he grabbed it and forcefully pulled his head back.

“You do _not_ let other people kiss you, you got that? You’re _mine_ , Cas. I’m the only one who gets to have you like this.” He ducked back in for another kiss, long and heady and pushing Cas further into the door. When he broke away, he stared intently into Cas’ eyes. “You got that?”

“I- I- I-  Dean, what-?” he stammered.  Which Dean was hoping was a good sigh, by the way, and not an upcoming rejection.  He was reasonably confident that Cas would just outright push him away if he weren’t at least _a little_ interested.

Hoping that’s the case, Dean dropped to his knees.  Cas, still too flustered to form sentences, watched.  Completely transfixed, he widened his stance and spread his legs to accommodate Dean.  All without seeming to know what he was doing.  What he was _offering._

Dean kept his eyes on Cas, needing to see his reactions and make sure they were on the same page.  Eyes locked, Dean reached forward and grabbed hold of Cas’ knees.  Slowly, he dragged them up his thighs, pressing in his thumbs every now and then, kneading the skin hidden beneath the denim.  Cas’ breathing picked up but otherwise didn’t react.  Dean was starting to question staking a claim right now, but then he reached Cas’ crotch.

“Look at you,” he said.  And yeah okay maybe he was feeling pretty smug about it.  “Already hard for me.”  Cas did blush at that, but stubbornly set his jaw in a blatant refusal to speak.  “It’s okay, bet I can get you talking.”

He finally looked at the now obvious bulge in front of him.  One hand still working him over and stroking through his pants, Dean dipped in briefly to kiss along the shaft.  That got a breathy gasp but not much else in the way of reaction.  

Fine, slow and steady was out.  Time for fast and dirty.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he unbuttoned Cas’ pants and pushed them down as far as he could.  Not even bothering to take the boxer briefs with them, he instead opted to pull Cas’ dick out through the hole in front.  Cas might’ve been making a startled noise at the rough display, but Dean hardly noticed.  Licking his lips, he licked up the precome that was already dripping out and then tongued at the slit.

At the very least, Cas was breathing loudly.  Dean could feel the heat of his hands hovering over his shoulders, wanting to touch but maybe not sure of the protocol here.  Not that protocol mattered here.  Dean was taking over and going to show the angel he was _his_.

There was no further preamble as Dean wrapped his mouth around Cas’ cock and then took him in as far as he could.  A strangled moan escaped above him and Cas finally put his hands on Dean.  One hand on his shoulder and the other carding through his hair, it’d be easy for Cas to take control and set the pace, but Dean figured he needed the contact to ground him more than anything else.  There was nothing demanding about the way his fingers danced along his scalp or dug into his shirt.  

Dean took the time to smile around Cas’ cock before starting to move.  He pulled out all his best moves, everything that any guy had ever praised him for or specifically asked for.  Not to be immodest or anything, but Dean knew damn well he could give a good blowjob and he was determined to make this his best one yet.  

Considering how Cas was gasping and writhing in the little space afforded him between Dean and the door, he was being pretty successful.

When he felt Cas getting close, balls tightening and moans getting louder, he abruptly stopped.  Letting go of Cas’ dick, he leaned back to look up at the angel.

“You mine, Cas?”  

Cas visibly shuddered at how fucked out Dean sounded, throat raw thanks in no small part to Cas’ dick.  But then he collected himself and scowled at him.  Which wasn’t particularly effective considering how the normally stoic angel was sweating, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide.

Apparently he needed a little more encouragement to give in.

He grabbed the base of Cas’ cock roughly but didn’t move, just held him in the agony of unreached orgasm.  “Say you’re mine, Cas, and I’ll take care of you.”  He mouthed at the head a bit, lapped up the precome that was leaking profusely at his point.  He bit back telling Cas how good he tasted, instead settling on a low moan that Cas probably wouldn’t notice over his own needy noises.  

“Cas.”  He waited until he had Cas’ full attention, eyes foggy with pleasure but watching him intently.  “I’ll take such good care of you, baby.”  

Cas’ breath hitched at the endearment but something was still holding him back.  Dean waited patiently for him to explain why he wouldn’t give in to something he so clearly wanted.

“Dean, I- Please, I- I can’t…”

He growled in response and backed away.  Cas actually _whined_ when he saw the hunter retreat, arms up in an aborted effort to drag him back.  But Dean never planned on going far.  He gave himself enough room to stand up and quickly undo his pants, hastily getting them out of the way so he could dive back in for a kiss.  

Cradling Cas’ face in his hands, he admired his handiwork.  As hot as Cas usually was, the debauched way he looked right now was _perfection_ as far as Dean was concerned.  “You look so good.”  He stole another kiss.  “Gonna look even better when I mark you up.”  Another kiss.  “Make it so nobody tries flirting with you again.”  Two more kisses.  “Knows you’re taken.”  One more kiss, filthy and all tongue.  “That you’re _mine_ and you _love_ it.”

Not giving Cas a chance to refute him, he lined up their cocks and thrust.  It was sloppy at best, sliding but barely keeping contact, but Cas gave a whimper and bucked into it.  

“Shhh, not yet.”  He grabbed Cas’ hips and pulled them flush together, cocks nestled against each other but trapped.  He held Cas firmly, stopping him from trying to gain any relief through friction, and got to work.  

First he took time to kiss Cas senseless until he was chasing Dean’s lips whenever he moved.  Once Cas was dazed and kiss drunk, he moved down his stubbled jaw, his neck, not stopping until he got to the juncture of neck and shoulder.  There he spent a good minute sucking and biting.  Satisfied he’d made a mark, as promised, he worked his way along the neckline of Cas’ shirt to leave more.  

All painfully visible to anyone who looked, a blaring warning to anyone who looked at him to _back the fuck off_.

It took some serious effort to keep Cas from moving.  He’d angle his head to give Dean better access, sigh or moan in pleasure, but then try and take advantage of the distraction to gain leverage against Dean and thrust.  Dean bit harder than usual after the third attempt and moved a hand to his ass.  He grabbed a handful and squeezed, then brought his hand away to slap it back his palm on Cas’ ass.  

The _noises_ Cas made at that, _fuck_.

Losing his patience, he placed one final, chaste kiss to the newest bruise, then kissed his way back up to his lips.  “Say you’re mine,” and yeah, some of the authority had slipped away to be replaced with raw begging.  “Please, baby, say you’re mine.”

Dean was about five seconds away from giving in and not pressing the matter.  He wanted to make Cas feel good even if the angel wouldn’t commit to more.  It’d suck, but he was willing to settle for friends that occasionally fucked.  Or, if this was really a one time thing, he’d take that in stride, too.

For once, things went Dean’s way.

“Yes.”  It was so quiet Dean wouldn’t have been able to hear it if he weren’t invading Cas’ space.  “I’m yours Dean....  Always been yours...”

Now it was Dean’s turn to whimper.  He’d imagined hearing those words fall from Cas’ lips a million times, never really believing it would happen.  

He got lost in that admission for a minute, needed to physically shake his head to regain his composure.  But he as soon as he was all there, he rewarded Cas’ confession by taking them both in hand.

“Fuck yeah, you’re mine.”  His confidence back, Dean started jerking them off fast and rough.  It was awkward to say the least - there was nothing to ease the way and he could barely get his hand comfortably around them both - but damn it all, he was going to make it work.  Putting their foreheads together, he watched Cas come apart.

Dean had always been one to babble during sex, so he kept up a litany of praise and assertions that Cas was _his_ to use and take care of.  Cas was too far gone for words.  If Dean had been more focused, he would’ve taken the time to catalogue each and every sound he coaxed from Cas.  He tried, he really did, but Cas was lost and Dean wasn’t much better.

The one that he’d remember for sure, though, is the hissed out _Dean_ , half surprise half curse, right before he came.  He was gorgeous like that, back arching off the motel door, hands clinging desperately to Dean’s shoulders, eyes fixed tightly shut as he surrendered to lust and pleasure.  

His hand slowed down to milk the last of it, then he briefly let go to collect the come on his hands.  Using it as lube, he wrapped his come slick fingers around them and returned to his brutal pace.  Cas squirmed and hissed, soon too oversensitive.  Dean didn’t slow down or let go, feeling Cas’ dick try desperately to get hard again.  

“Say it again, baby.”

A muted sob, then a breathless, “I’m _yours_ Dean.”

Dean mercifully let go, backed up a pace so he could see more of Cas as he finished himself off.  Cas reached forward, hesitantly wrapped his hand around Dean’s and matched his pace and speed.  That did Dean in right then and there, seeing his angel want to help him come.  He spilled himself all over the floor as Castiel watched with rapt attention.

He grunted when the stimulation became too much, moving away to survey the room.

“Ugh, we made a mess.”

Cas glared at him, looking pointedly at the come on their shirts and the floor.  “I was at best complicit in the mess _you_ were determined to make.”

Dean rolled his eyes but went to grab some tissues.  “Complicit my _ass_ , you _loved_ it.”

“That is hardly the point,” he scoffed.  But he did help clean up, which was an admission of guilt if anything ever was.

Halfway through undressing, Cas paused to look at Dean with a question in his eyes.  Dean dropped into his bed, spent and wanting nothing more than to pass out for a few hours.  “What?”

Cas looked away, more shy than Dean could ever remember seeing him.  A light bulb clicked on in his head, and he pulled the covers back.  “C’m ‘ere.”

A pleased little smile is the last thing Dean saw that night before the lights turned off and Cas was tucked securely against his chest.  

**Author's Note:**

> Additional Notes/Epilogue:  
> (keep in mind, this includes some sex stuff not mentioned in the tags since they're not in the story proper)
> 
> \- The hickeys along Cas’ neck do keep him safe from unwanted attention… until they fade. Then the flirting is back and it drives Dean crazy.  
> \- The sex is about a million times better when Dean’s all possessive like that, so Cas learns how to flirt back. It’s super effective at riling Dean up.  
> \- Until Dean figures it out… He tries to play hard to get after that, but Cas’ more aggressive flirting tactics win out in the end. He fucks himself onto Cas particularly rough that night, spanking him and biting all along his body, coming on his face. Basically just doing everything he can to mark Cas up as his.  
> The new bruises are super effective at stopping the flirting, even when Cas tries to initiate it (all with the hope of getting Dean to drag him to the nearest flat surface and claim him.  
> \- (The kinky fuck, he probably wouldn’t mind Dean bending him over a bar table and fucking him in front of everyone.)  
> \- Cas is disappointed his normal flirting ploy doesn’t work anymore, because the sex is good but without desperation without it.  
> \- What he doesn’t count on is how pleased Dean is to see people noticing his handiwork on Cas’ neck (and jaw and arms and basically anywhere that might be exposed). So he makes a point of dominating the fuck out of Cas once a week to renew the marks.  
> \- This should go without saying, but Cas loves it.  
> \- But Dean has to be mindful of keeping the marks somewhere that can be covered by clothes. The looks they get when a (fake) FBI agent shows up with bruises all over his neck (and let’s face it - the smug look in his “partner’s” eyes when people take notice) isn’t really conducive to gaining the locals’ favor.  
> \- (This also works in Cas’ favor - as soon as they get back to the motel, Dean will practically rip off his clothes so he can see his marks, licking and nipping at them until they’re both so hard they barely last long after that.)  
> \- And poor poor Sam. He’s happy for his brother. Seriously, he really is. He’s been waiting for Cas and Dean to either fuck or kill each other from all their unresolved sexual tension, and he’s honestly glad it didn’t end with one of them dead. But they went from 0 to 100 without any warning.  
> \- Now Sam’s stuck seeing the fruits of Dean’s efforts every time Cas wears one of Dean’s t-shirts, too big on him so that the neckline dips low and reveals angry red bruises.  
> \- And even though he makes a point of getting his own motel room, and whenever possible making sure that room is on the opposite side of the motel, every morning it’s painfully obvious what they got up to. Sam wishes he could bleach his brain.  
> \- So basically, super possessive Dean and Cas who loves every second of it (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ


End file.
